


A Tactile Incident

by BlueHareGame



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Male Slash, One Shot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueHareGame/pseuds/BlueHareGame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John takes what he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tactile Incident

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a sort of getting-back-on-the-horse exercise for me. Hope you like it! Please R&R!

The first time it happened was an accident. He had held tight to Harold’s arm to stop him from pointlessly following a perpetrator. Carter would deal with him. They hadn’t managed to save the number from the bomb but Reese could at least make sure Harold was not caught up in a suicidal stalkers exit plan. His hand had slipped from its relative safety on Harold’s upper arm as he pulled away, sliding down to reflexively grip clammy fingers. It had only been a second before he had released him but Reese was sure that for a brief second Harold had gripped back.

As a rule his boss kept physical contact to a minimum, which had been something Reese had struggled to get used as he had always been a tactile man. As their mutual trust grew Reese had been able to steal the occasional pat on the shoulder or in dire circumstances the ability to manhandle Harold. However, in circumstances such as that he took little pleasure in the contact and did not dwell on those moments as much as the gentle bump of knees under a diner table or the brush of fingertips as Bears leash was handed over.  It had been difficult but Reese had decided early on that if he was to have Harold in his life, his emotions would not be allowed to overrule his friend’s wishes.

The second time it happened he really had no excuse. He had arrived at the library the morning after a difficult case to find Harold slumped in his chair. Hand on his gun Reese had approached the chair and pressed two fingers to Harold’s throat. His breathing was shallow and his heart beat strong. Sleeping. Reese pulled his hand away only to have a soft sleepy grasp on his wrist. It appeared the sleeping man was just that, sleeping and yet his fingers brushed over the pale soft skin of his wrist flexing slightly as he murmured. Reese allowed him to hold on for a few moments before carefully extracting himself. He took Bear for a run making sure to slam the door when he went. Best to wake Harold so he could move from what would surely be an uncomfortable position. Better that Reese wasn’t there, Harold was not only very private but also easily embarrassed.

He returned to the library sweating, panting and thanks to Bears new friends; covered in mud. The dog himself had taken a dip in the pond, cleaning himself of the slick gray mud an option Reese had forgone. Harold was awake and unhappy to be enthusiastically greeted b y a sopping Bear. Although not enough to hold it against the dog made evident by the smirk and shake of his head when Reese ordered him to sit. His face became carefully blank when he finally looked at Reese. The disparity between the openly warm expression he had given Bear and the look he was now giving the gunman was enough to wipe the affectionate smile from Reese’s face. He suddenly felt very self conscious and rubbed his hand down the once- white t-shirt he was wearing.

“We have a number.”  

Reese nodded and gestured to a filing cabinet that Harold had allowed him to keep his things in. Treats for Bear, books he was reading, his gun cleaning rags, and a spare suit. “I’ll just get cleaned up.” Harold had been staring evenly at him and continued to do so as John pulled the dirty shirt off, balling it up so he could carry his clean suit without covering everything in mud. He held the clothes tightly to his chest and glanced over his shoulder as he turned the corner. Harold was looking at his screens with extreme interest.

The third time they were undercover following a number. Harold had needed to get closer to crack the numbers phone and they had followed her to a bar. Reese approached her first.

“Hey, don’t I know you?”

“I don’t-“

“Yeah, the Feldspar conference right?”

She laughed, this was too easy. Her handbag was still clasped tightly in her hand and Harold slid onto the stool next to her. She didn’t take her eyes off of Reese, twirling her hair around her fingers.

“I’m with Sanstor...”

“Harbinger Limited.”

He made sure to talk softly so she would lean in closer to hear him.

“Based in...”

“Chicago.”

“Ha! So am I, I mean...so are _we_. Sanstor that is, I mean...fuck.”

Reese laughed and brushed his fingers over her wrist. He made eye contact with Harold who just blinked at him before slipping away. The gunman stayed for a little while, long enough for her not to become suspicious. She had told him about her home town, about how much she hated conferences. He had gotten a few good leads as to who was trying to kill her and yet Harold did not seem happy to hear from him when he slid back into the car.

“Harold...what is it?”

Harold didn’t react to him at first and Reese impulsively reached out, putting a hand on the crook of his elbow.

“Harold?”

He jumped and blinked several times. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Thinking? About what? Do you have an idea about who might want to hurt Ms Carol?”

“No no no, just some code I have been working on.” He wasn’t looking at Reese; he was still staring at the hand on his arm as if detailing every feature, noting every scar. Reese removed his hand and Harold blinked again finally looking at him with a slight smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to be joining me.”

Reese raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised what secrets people are willing to spill to strangers in bars Harold.”

The fourth time happened during a time where they were given no new numbers, after almost a week of nothing Reese had finally caved and had made plans to meet up with Carter and Fusco for drinks; sending a tentative invite to Harold. He fully expected a polite excuse in return and he had gotten just that. It had been in the middle of a carefully altered story about his former life as a CIA gunman that Reese was interrupted by a polite cough and the surprised welcome of Fusco. Harold was wearing a slightly less formal suit paired with a bright orange tie and a shy smile. He looked so out of place in the dim lit dive bar Fusco had chosen that he was garnering a few stares, the gunman among them. Reese swallowed hard to hide the flip of his stomach. “I thought you had work to do?”

He was already out of the booth, his hand on Harold’s elbow as he headed to the bar to buy him a drink before he could refuse. Carter and Fusco watched them leave and he could feel their eyes on his back but for once he let it go. “I thought that for once there may be things more important than work.” Reese smiled and leant on the bar glancing at the bartender who was busy further down the line. He caught Harold’s reflections in the mirror opposite him. He was smiling softly and his eyes flickered up and down Reese’s stretched out form, lingering on the hand that rested on the bar. He swallowed. “I know it is a little late...but I-“

The bartender interrupted and Reese ordered them their drinks when it was clear Harold wasn’t going to finish his thought.  When they returned to the table Carter and Fusco were involved in a full blown argument about which aspect of their respective relationships with Reese were the most annoying and Harold helpfully weighed in.

Three hours later after they had said goodbye to the detectives the partners were strolling silently down the street. It had begun to rain softly and the air was heavy with the smell of two week heat wave, scorched sidewalks, and sea water rain mingling in the hair and clothes of the now slightly tipsy Reese and the definitely tipsy Harold.  

Reese stumbled slightly into him enjoying the excuse of intoxication for his lingering presence at Harold’s shoulder. He didn’t move away and Reese finally relented to the thoughts that had been occupying him all night. “What...” No, most important things first. “Thank you, Harold, for...coming.”

“Not at all. The machine seems to be giving us a rest John and I surmised it might not let us go back to work if it thought I wasn’t taking advantage of that.”

Reese smile sank and he sniffed, they were silent for a couple of seconds.”That’s the only reason you came?” His voice was quiet, he regretted speaking instantly. He was betraying a little too much there.

Harold gave him one of his carefully blank looks and reached into his jacket pocket. “No, I realised I had forgotten something quite important.” He pulled out a small box and handed it to his partner. He looked dead ahead whilst Reese stared at him. When Harold didn’t explain he opened the box and raised his eyebrows. The dim streetlights glinted on the expensive watch face and Reese let out a soft puff of air. It was a beautiful watch, thin black leather straps with a silver watch face. Absolutely Reese’s style. He slipped it onto his wrist but in his intoxicated state he was finding it difficult to close the clasp.

Suddenly Soft nimble fingers were holding gently onto his wrist and Harold he stopped walking, carefully fastening the watch and using a swipe of a finger across Reese wrist to check that it wasn’t on too tight. After he had finished he placed both hands around Reese’s wrist, two thumbs gentle rubbing over a knotted white scar that ran down from his thumb to his wrist and then across. Reese blinked slowly and risked a glance at Harold’s face. He seemed lost in thought. “Thank you.”

Harold let go of his hand and began to walk away, not looking at his partner. “Happy Birthday Mr Reese.”

It was the next morning when Reese returned to put on the watch after a shower that he noticed a small inscription on the underneath of the watch. He sank onto his bed ignoring the cold of the sheets against his damp skin.

_‘Love, though said to be afflicted with blindness, is a vigilant watchman.’_

He sat staring at the inscription his mind desperately trying to recall its source. After a few minutes he quickly fastened the watch and dressed himself. It wasn’t until he reached the library that he allowed himself a moment to take a breath. He didn’t know what Harold was trying to say, he certainly knew what the tiny spark of hope deep in his chest _wanted_ him to mean but he would not allow his hope and his emotions to cloud his judgement here. He would not lose Harold by forcing his own desires onto him.

Bear jumped up to greet him when he pulled back the screen and Harold rose from his chair to put the book he was reading back. Reese tried to think of something to say, maybe a quip about how he really needed to bone up on his Dickens or something. However; when his boss returned he simply sprang straight back into his work.

“It seems our little holiday is over Mr Reese.”

Two months later he had gotten no closer to understanding just what it was Harold had been trying to say. He had been careful not to get his hopes up as Harold began to allow greater contact. A lingering hand on his shoulder during a undercover charity ball, a arm around his shoulder at the bar during a meeting with the detectives and even a joyous short hug during a winning baseball game.

Reese smiled leaning back in his car seat. He was on a stakeout which had lasted for six hours already. His training had taught him to occupy his mind with possible outcomes and the development of strategies to deal with them. However his training was slipping as his mind wandered to Harold and the game they played, this time he was set on discovering Harold favourite colour. He had already succeeded in discovering that Harold had spent a lot of time in the library at school and that he had once taken piano lessons. To the outsider it would seem he had not made much progress and yet to Reese these facts were everything. They told him volumes about the man behind the cover identities and secrets.

The perpetrator had been inside the bank for almost seven hours when he finally surfaced, shoulders hunched as he rushed away from Reese’s car on foot. The gunman slipped out of his seat and followed quickly. “Our perp is on foot Finch.”

“Be careful Mr Reese.”

Reese smirked, it warmed him to hear the genuine concern behind Harold’s words and he quickened his pace. The perpetrator tore around a corner and down a alleyway. Reese followed carefully noting a ground floor window to his right and several large bins which provided cover. The perpetrator seemed to be waiting for someone, clutching a brown paper wrapped parcel to his chest. Reese squinted, the dead end of the alleyway was dark and he was struggling to see into the far corners.

“Mr King is waiting for something. I am going to get a closer look...”

“No, stay where you are. I do not have coverage of the area Mr Reese....John?”

He inched closer turning the edge of the bin to come face to face with Snow. It was the last face he saw before everything abruptly went black.

When he awoke Reese struggled against iron chains holding his wrist tight to a bar that pressed heavily across his back. The watch Harold had given him rubbed painfully against his scars and John shifted his position to release some of the pressure.  His toes scraped across the floor and he struggled to hold his weight. The dark room suddenly filled with blinding artificial lights and Reese closed his eyes against the searing pain.

“Good to see you again John.”

“Can’t really same the same thing Mark.”

Snow scoffed turning his back on the former agent. “I know you have the information we need John. And I know that you will tell us where Agent Forrest is. You know why John?”

He sighed. Snow was already fond of theatrics. The perpetrator must have been an agent working for Snow. Which meant that for now Forrest was safe. As long as he stayed with Harold the agency wouldn’t find him. He glanced around. Had they removed his earpiece? Did Harold know where he was? He just had to hope that he did and that Carter or Fusco were on their way to save him because John didn’t see another way out of this situation.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to say anything... yet.”

He had been too distracted by his thoughts to reply and Snow had taken it as defiance. Oh well. Snow turned back and approached him. He tilted his head and smiled at the former agent, reaching out to grab his chin, to force eye contact.

“You know we have ways to make you talk John.”

“Torture me all you want Snow. I won’t tell you anything.”

Snow laughed. “No, you are right. I have found that physical pain is not as great a motivator as...emotional torture.”

It was Reese turns to scoff. “In case you haven’t noticed Mark I don’t exactly have an innocent wife and kids you can use against me. That’s what you taught me remember, wives, girlfriends, kids. Liabilities.”

Snow practically bounced with joy. “You are right John.” His voice was filled with glee and he practically danced to the opposite wall, still bathed in darkness. “You don’t have a wife, you don’t have kids...but that doesn’t mean you don’t have liabilities.” He pulled the chain and three wooden pin boards lit up the two outer boards filled with pictures of the people they had saved, Carter, Zoe, Fusco, but the middle board was the one that caught his attention the most. He tried to control his expression knowing that Snow would see what he couldn’t control, his micro expressions would betray him and there was nothing he could do about that.

It was filled with pictures taken from CCTV and long range surveillance photographs. Harold eating his weekly ice cream in the park, Harold eating breakfast at the diner near one of his apartments, Harold looking out over the river. But there were not just pictures of Harold, John was there too. The pair of them at the dive bar, them walking Baer, sharing smiles at the ball park and in the centre of the board Harold’s hand clasped around Johns wrist in a rainy street late at night everything Reese felt written all over his face.

If Reese died here Snow would have nothing. Harold and Forrest would be safe. Snow was eyeing him carefully. Reese knew he was going to try and get him to reveal their location; he was going to bluff and say he had Harold. Only one way to test that. “I’m sorry; I should’ve stayed in cover.” Snow frowned. Reese waited but heard no response so either Harold wasn’t listening or...he couldn’t hear him. Snow crossed his arms. “Sorry John but I couldn’t risk you warning agent Forrest. “ He reached for a table and picked up the shattered remains of Johns phone and his ear piece. So Harold had no way of tracking him. Reese released the tension in his shoulders. At least they would be safe.

“You might as well kill me now Mark. There is nothing I can tell you and I am in no mood to play into your little bluff. I know you have no idea where my business partner or agent Forrest is.”

Snow looked furious and pulled out his gun, pointing it directly into the face of the smirking man. “You’re right...maybe I should.” He twisted the gun tight against Reese’s head and he pushed back closing his eyes. He heard Snow take a deep breath, steadying his hand, the room so quiet he could hear the soft raps of rough fingers sliding across the safety and down to the trigger.

There was a beat of silence with no movement before a gunshot rang through his head as he was dropped to his knees. A loud grunt and a scraping sound and John opened his eyes as the chains that had held him suspended were released, dropping heavily on the backs of his legs.

“Wha-“

Carter grabbed him by the collar and helped him to his feet as Fusco tugged on the chains at his wrist. “John, hey John. Are you alright?” Reese blinked taking in the scene. Snow was lying unconscious on the ground, gun kicked away from him. He glanced over his shoulder to a bullet hole in the wall far behind him, exactly in line to where his head had been moments before. He nodded weakly, his muscles screamed in pain and he felt shaky on his legs but he was alive.

“How did you find me?”

“That was my doing actually.” Reese’s head shot up and he took a wobbly step forwards, towards Harold who was limping around the table, agent Forrest at his shoulder.

Reese tilted his head. “But how?”

Harold smiled and reached out for him, taking the gunman’s wrist and turning it over. He gently removed the watch and pressed the catch to open the clockwork. The inscribed back piece popped open and inside a tiny black bug was nestled amongst the cogs. Reese let out a soft gasp. “I guess that is what you meant by vigilant.”

Harold was already putting the watch back on and froze. He looked up and for a moment they just looked at each other. He nodded slightly and John smiled. Suddenly, looking at the evidence behind him and in his boss’s eyes in that moment he couldn’t really deny himself hope this time.

“And do you consider yourself... _blind_ Harold?”

His partner let go of his wrist. His voice was so soft Reese was forced to lean in close to hear his reply.

“For you John...I do.”


End file.
